Character Encounters- Arthur
Big news! I've finished writing the third book in my Stanley and Hazel Trilogy on my writing retreat to California! As I launch into edits, I have to admit that I'm a bit reluctant to leave the world of 1935 behind. Just for fun, I thought I'd share some conversations I had with the characters before finishing Book 3 and sealing their fates.
I followed Arthur down a dark and winding street on the south side of St. Louis. He seemed unaware of me as he strolled casually, bowler hat cocked to the side on his head. In his weathered pants held up by suspenders and a tattered sports coat, he looked every bit the tough street kid that I wrote him to be. His back to me, he paused under a dim and flickering streetlamp and casually reached down to strike a match on the sole of his shoe. He raised the lit match to his face, orange light lining his young but hard features as he lit the cigarette between his lips. Without turning he spoke.
ARTHUR:
See anything you like? Or you just killin’ time?
ME:
Oh, hi…do you know who I am?
ARTHUR:
Do I look like a dumb bum? I know yous all right. Been followin’ me around for a while now.
ME:
I don’t just follow you… I made you up. I make you talk.
ARTHUR:
Is that what you think? Maybe I make you write. Ever think of that doll face?
ME:
I hadn’t thought of it that way before…
ARTHUR:
Course you ain’t. Swells think they make the world go twirlin’ around. But they don’t, see? It’s us. The masses… the forgettables. We make this good-for-nothing world and yous take all the credit.
ME:
I don’t want any credit for anything that’s good-for-nothing… I assure you.
AUTHOR:
Wisey, eh? Think you’re better than me? Ain’t nobody my puppeteer.
ME:
Well, you certainly have been one of my more… uncooperative characters.
AUTHOR:
Why? Cuz’ I won’t play nice with Princess Hazel?
ME:
Well, that yes, and other things. But why don’t you give Hazel a chance? Your best friend cares for her quite a bit.
AUTHOR:
Stanley’s gone soft with all of that Jesus biz. I ain’t makin’ sweet with any swell for anybody.
ME:
You’ll change your tune in book 2.
AUTHOR:
What’s that you say? Get the marbles outta your gob. Mumblin’s for cowards.
ME:
Nevermind. Look, Arthur… I know you’re full of pain and life has been hard. I just want to see you evolve.
ARTHUR:
What do you know about pain? Stay outta my business.
ME:
Everyone is in pain of some kind. Even the swells you hate so much. It may look different but everyone suffers.
ARTHUR:
Stop. You’re makin’ me wanna bawl like a baby. Please. I ain’t buyin’ that and not because I’m broke. If you’re so in charge why you lettin’ the elite crush us? Just to watch us squirm? This ain’t a motion picture show.
ME:
No, it’s a book. I just want to represent what actually happens and—
ARTHUR:
And another thing why don’t yous make Stanley quit chasin’ after skirts he can’t afford?
ME:
Stanley isn’t chasing Hazel. They have a special connection.
ARTHUR:
Ain’t that sweet as Shirley Temple’s dimples.
ME:
Could you please blow your smoke away from me?
ARTHUR:
Nah. What? Can’t breathe air like the rest of us, swell?
ME:
Well this went about as well as could be expected. I thought I could have some kind of conversation with you.
ARTHUR:
The only gum flappin’ I wanna hear from you is—Who. Is. The. Veiled. Prophet.
ME:
Back up… you’re getting too close.
ARTHUR:
Scared, sweetheart?
ME:
No. I just don’t want to do something we’ll both regret.
ARTHUR:
Yeah… I heard rumors that yous was a fighter.
ME:
Taekwondo.
ARTHUR:
Fancy. Know my style? It’s called Screw You.
ME:
Okay…well, Arthur. Despite your obvious disdain, I’m going to keep fighting for you. I want to steer you right.
ARTHUR:
Ain’t nobody steerin’ me, Shakespeare.
ME:
Wait. Before you go. Arthur… I know what they did to you. And to your mom… and I feel responsible. I’m sorry.
ARTHUR:
You wrote it down. But this stuff isn’t fiction. I was Suffering and Poverty before you gave me a name and a shape. This is the world, doll. I’m the bottom of the pile. The ones who never get a break. I’ve always been here.
ME:
Well, I just want people to know about you. And the others nobody wants. The ones considered useless and broken. Maybe if they knew you… they’d help.
ARTHUR:
Starry-eyed dreamer. That ain’t gonna happen. I got the wrong label. Nobody cares. People wanna see what makes them smile. People like me? They wanna eliminate.
Arthur flicked his smoking cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. Then without another word he turned away and disappeared into the shadows of an alleyway where I dared not follow.
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